


All Is Not Lost

by Anoriell



Series: The Peredhel and his Gondorian Captain [6]
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-06
Updated: 2012-09-06
Packaged: 2017-11-13 15:49:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/505171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anoriell/pseuds/Anoriell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A farewell note. A glimmer of hope. Impending choices.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Is Not Lost

**Author's Note:**

> Written over six years ago (2006-02-10), back in my early LJ days, for the '50passages challenge'. Prompt/Passage = I have forgotten much that I thought I knew, and learned again much that I had forgotten.
> 
> Regarding one of my favorite pairings in LoTR fanfiction.
> 
> At the time, drabbles and very short fics were my forte and ever a joy to create.
> 
> Just trying to archive everything here, on AO3.

_Minas Tirith, Third Age_

_Tuilë, Year 3019_

He unfurled the parchment. Knowing whence it came, his fingers quivered with nervousness –perhaps even dread. And he had yet to start reading the letter’s contents.

* * *

_I have forgotten much that I thought I knew and learned again much that I had forgotten. ‘Tis only in the face of death that I finally understood the true meaning of life._

_That day, amidst the chaos of the Pelennor Fields, I remembered. As we crested the hill and caught our first glimpse of the battle raging below, it dawned on me that we would likely meet our Maker before the very gates of the White City. I felt ashamed. And I was harried with regrets. It seemed to me that though I was alive, life itself had passed me by with little to commemorate. As if all this while, I had merely existed. How had it come to this? Somewhere, along the path of this beingness, the mundane facets of life had ceased to matter. A sad realisation. I suddenly thought about the sweet fragrance of spring flowers within the valley and the cleansing effects of autumn rains upon dried lands. Would I never relish their scents again? What of the pureness found in the birth of a foal? Or the blessed sounds of children’s laughter? Should I no longer be witness to such marvels? I was haunted by these sober thoughts._

_But we each had our part to play in this war in hopes of ensuring the continuation of all that is good and beautiful. Thus, with the sunrise warming our backs and lighting our way into the fray, along with the rallying cries of our warriors united in purpose, accompanied by the blaring Rohirric horns –symbol of the Eorlingas’ bravery and spirit- I forgot all about the petty grievances of humans and their unquenchable thirst for power and riches. In that fleeting moment, I forgave humanity’s ignorance and ofttimes stupidity. The rapid beating of my heart echoed the traditional clatter of our King’s sword upon the Rohirrim’s spears as he had blessed them with courage, and especially love, before the initial charge. Riding towards a certain death, I chewed over the significance of our ruler’s ritual and its underlying sentiment … for ultimately, isn’t that the essence of life? One trivial word -love. That one all-encompassing term._

_As such, I ask for your forgiveness for I can no longer hold you to me. I know your heart to be true and am touched by your care. Only, you love another. Do not question how this bit of knowledge came to be. Destiny sometimes makes fools of us. I beseech you to find your intended; together may you learn all that is too easily forgotten and perhaps forget much of what you thought you knew._

_You shall be remembered._

_* * *_  

The missive had been written in an elegant hand. Though each word seemed punctuated with resolve, a silent grief could be perceived throughout the text.

“It cannot be”. The parchment slipped from Elrohir’s fingers as he leaned forward in his chair and bowed his head in uncertainty, feeling some measure of scepticism.

“Believe it,” his brother replied. “The fates have revealed their true intentions. He found it in his bedchamber earlier this eve. There will be no exchange of vows between the two; Rohan’s beloved shield-maiden is to return home within a fortnight.”

“Elladan, I …” Words eluded him in light of such news. His trembling hands were gently enfolded within a reassuring clasp as the elder twin hunkered before him, a grave expression marring his usually pleasant countenance.

“ _Tôren_ , you must go to him.”

Elrohir searched his sibling’s eyes, noting the sadness and apparent resignation within their depths. “But what of … ?” A finger upon his lips rendered him quiet.

“Our choices will be as it should _tôr dithen_. That of our heart’s decree. Now I beg you to follow yours.”

The Elf-knight reluctantly nodded, his spirit abounding with both sorrow and renewed hope. Embracing his twin, he stood and left their shared quarters, intent on finding Gondor’s newly appointed Steward.

**Author's Note:**

> Elvish translations:
> 
> Tuilë – Spring (Quenya) = 54 days between modern April 8th and May 31st  
> Tôren – brother  
> Tôr dithen - little brother  
>  
> 
> Disclaimer (because I am old school that way): Tolkien is the consummate artist and Middle Earth is his chef d’oeuvre. I hold his work in highest regard and as such would not presume to unlawfully use his literary creations for profit. I am only borrowing from his imagination … for the pleasure of expounding on his already established genius.


End file.
